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TCupeta 

an& 

Other 

^poems 

by 

“yiorcnce ^Parker 

X 


Salt “C.aKe City, ICtah 












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AUG -3 I9i5 


W-0 I ■ 



OVE is the harmony of hills and plains, 
Of sunset’s glow, of dew time and the 
night. 

It is the silver chain that links 
The countless stars and binds each in its course. 
Love is the subtle sympathies that holds 
Two souls in unison of perfect thought. 

It is a music ever soft and low 

That stirs reverberant echoes of the heart 

And thrills the vastness of eternity. 


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LUPETA. 


^T|#^ERiS is the beauty of the Southern night, 
^ ^ Of warm rich shadows, mystic olive 
shade, 

With grace that wakes the soul to sweet de¬ 
lights 

Euamored with the beauty God has made, 
When beauty is so pure. 

Hers are the eyes that wake the mind to dreams; 

Ilers the voice that floats down the glen. 
Borne on the winds and found in meadow 
streams, 

A voice of music which the ears of men 
Drink in rapturous silence. 

Hers is the soul, an iridescent gem 

Where strange lights flash and falter, fade 
and gleam; 

A priceless jewel in a diadem. 

Which once was fashioned from the things 
that seem 

Into the things that are. 

She seems a sacred star that dwells apart 
That ever draws me on to my Ideal; 

And some day she must know that in my heart 
IVe built a shrine for her at which I kneel 
A silent worshipper. 






L'MOim. 


S WEETHEART, know thou all the world is 
love? 

Lift up thine eyes unto the pale star light; 
There all the spheres within the blue of night 
Are but the lovers with the Great Above. 

Dear one, listen, Love walks 0 so light. 

And steals a-tip-toe hnongst the willow trees. 
And breathes so softly thru the moon-flecked 
leaves 

Where dripping dews are silver in the night. 

Pair Soul, think thou how soft-breasted Sea 
Infolds in warm embrace the pearly shells 
Whose murmuring and re-echoing ever tells 
Of corals and the Sea-cave’s Mystery. 

So here. Sweetheart, within the voice-filled 
night 

I hold thee close with love’s pure ecstasy, 
Whose whispering tells in its sweet minstrelsy 
That Love’s fair star is ever in our sight. 


PROM THE NORTH. 


OU have seen the north birds fly 
W Southward thru the sweep of sky ; 
You have marked how swift their flight 
Back to isles of their delight. 

Such are my thoughts that fly to thee 
Across the stretch of snow and sea. 

You have viewed this lonely place, 

This silent world oif sno\v and waste, 

The dull drear sky, the mute despair 
Of ice fields stretching everywhere. 

Such is my lonely soul’s distress 
Imprisoned with its silentness. 

You have seen the surging sea 
Tossed by storms and furiously 
Rage unchecked against the wall 
And struggling rise, defeated fall. 

Such are the storms of my remorse 
And life that falls back in its course. 

0 Love of Mine! in Southern strands 
Would you but stretch me your white hands 
And whisper what your eyes express 
To break this awful silentness— 

No barriers of snow and sea 

Could hold me then, 0 Love, from thee. 


SERENADE. 


Night may stoop and hold thee close 
Within his warm embrace; 

The moon may climb the balustrade 
To kiss thy sleeping face; 

Sea winds may murmur round thy couch 
To woo thee drowsily, 

But Night, moonbeams and soft sea winds 
But bring my love to thee— 

But bring my love to thee. 


The tall trees rustle their soft skirts 
Like fairies in thy dreams, 

I bid them still and wake thee not 
Until the morning beams, 

And then, Idalia, rise. 

And with the flowers lift thine eyes 
Unto the morning skies— 

Unto the morning skies. 

The stars within the night heaven’s blue 
With me their vigils keep, 

And ever tell with their bright eyes 
I love thee, love thee, Sweet. 

Within the nodding night 
The lark awaits the morn; 

Idalia, my life, my love. 

For thee the dawn is born; 

So when Aurora beams 
Awake thy slumberings 
I bid thee rise, arise. 

For Morning with her tinted skies 
Will greet thee with a glad surprise. 
Arise, Idalia, arise— 

Arise, Idalia, arise. 




SPRING. 


SEE abudding new the bare brown trees; 

^ I hear once more the robin near the 
pane; 

I feel the thrilling of the warming breeze 
And I do know that Spring is here again. 

You ask me, Sweet, to wander out with you 
To where the hills are blooming with the 
May; 

You’ll pluck for me the tiny flow’rets new. 
And your small hand will lead me where I 
stray. 

I’ve watched the Summer, seen the Autumn’s 
gold. 

The falling snow, the coming of the lark; 

But what care I if I have grown so old 

I have you, Sweet, and Spring within my 
heart. 































































